The Bonds of War
by Alobear
Summary: Continuation of the scene between Clint and Natasha on the helicarrier, followed by a post-movie tag. Set during and after The Avengers, but references Clint's family from Age of Ultron.


The Bonds of War

by Alobear

Category: Gen

Notes:

So, you're happily minding your own business when the new Man From Uncle movie comes out of nowhere and hijacks your brain. So, now you're reading *all the fic* and you inevitably come across some awesome writers along the way. So, naturally, you start looking at their back catalogues - and OMG, where has Avengers fic been all your life? And then, of course, a certain Agent Barton appears in your brain at 3am, and now here you are. I'm sure this has been done to death already, but hey - what Hawkeye wants, Hawkeye gets - especially if it's the only way he'll let me sleep.

XXXXX

"I called Laura," Nat says, quietly.

"Shit." Clint glances at her sharply. "What did you tell her?"

Nat gives one of those irritating little shrugs of hers. "Everything." She meets his gaze levelly. "Of course."

Clint scrubs his hands over his face, the throb in his head intensifying. "Of course," he echoes with resignation.

One of the things he loves most about Laura is that she accepts his friendship with Nat without question. She knows how important it is to him, and why he needs it; sometimes he thinks she might be a little bit grateful that Nat gets the brunt of his work-related shit to deal with. But, as awesome as it is to have a wife who understands that his incredibly hot, ninja best friend isn't a threat to their marriage, it gets considerably less awesome when the two of them get together to talk about him.

"Was she pissed?" he asks.

Nat just rolls her eyes at him, then tosses him a cellphone. "Just call her already."

Clint curses inwardly when his hands shake as he tries to press the buttons. He's still feeling decidedly fragile after his cognitive recalibration, the echoes of Loki's voice in his head making it difficult to focus. He feels around the edges of his mind, where outside influences end and he begins, and he isn't sure he can quite tell where the boundaries are yet. Nat's presence at his side provides a sold anchor to reality, which he clings to with all his might, but the phone in his hand represents a whole different level of real that he's not sure he's ready to handle.

Eventually, though, the connection is made, and Laura answers on the second ring with an anxious, "Hello?"

At the sound of her voice, Clint's throat closes up and he suddenly has trouble breathing. A strangled, incoherent noise issues from somewhere in his chest, and his eyes start to burn.

"Clint?" Laura prompts.

"Yeah," he manages to get out.

"Hey," she says, the single word conveying love, relief and a breathless joy at hearing his voice.

"Hey," he echoes back, then doesn't know what the hell else to say.

"Are you safe?" She doesn't ask if he's okay. She knows he won't want to go into it on the phone, and she doesn't want to force him to lie to her.

"For now," he tells her, wishing he could be more reassuring.

"Are you coming home?" Normally, she wouldn't ask that either. It's an indication of just how shaken she must have been by whatever Nat told her.

He swallows past another lump in his throat. "I can't," he chokes out. "Not yet." Maybe not ever.

"Okay." Laura never questions his duty. That's another thing he loves about her.

He's known plenty of guys whose wives or girlfriends have made their lives hell because of the job, but Laura only ever makes things easier. She deserves so much better than what he gives her, but he's too selfish not to take advantage of her understanding. Every now and then, in quiet moments on the farm, he broaches the subject of quitting and living at home full-time. She just tells him not to be an idiot, and shudders at the idea of having him constantly under foot.

"Is Nat there?" she asks next.

"Yeah, she's right here," he tells her, knowing that will make her feel at least a little better.

"Good. Let her help you, okay?" Laura knows he's going to have trouble with what's happened (he knows it too, but he can't think about it yet), and she also knows that Nat will be there to help him through it. "Now, give her the phone - I want to talk to her. I love you."

"I love you, too." He shoves the handset in Nat's direction, not able to look at her. She takes it from his hand, and there is silence for a long moment while she listens to whatever Laura has to say.

Then, Nat says a brisk, "Yes, ma'am," and hangs up the phone. "Well, I've got my orders."

"Oh, yeah?" Clint can't help a little smile at the thought of Laura ordering Nat around.

"Yeah," Nat says, talking hold of one of his hands in both of hers. "Same as always. Save the world and get you home." She squeezes his fingers. "We'll come out the other side of this. We always do."

Clint looks up at her then, letting the warmth in her hand and in her gaze seep into him and start to thaw the lump of ice Loki built around his heart.

XXXXX

Then, there's an alien attack on New York and an afternoon of utter madness that sees Clint crash landing a SHIELD jet, sharp-shooting from the top of a skyscraper, rappelling through a sheet glass window, and helping his new team members capture a renegade god. And then there's shawarma.

At long last, they see Thor and Loki off, and all go their separate ways. Clint settles behind the wheel of his car, with Nat in the passenger seat, but he can't bring himself to turn the key. After a long moment, Nat looks over at him in concern.

"What's the matter?" she asks. "Don't you want to go home?"

Clint grips the steering wheel tight in an attempt to stop the trembling in his hands. This is the first real moment he's had to breathe since coming back to himself, and the shadows are starting to close in.

"What if he's still in there?" he asks, his voice low.

Nat swivels in her seat to face him. "What if who's still in where?"

"Loki," he spits out. "What if he's still in my head?"

Nat reaches out and lays a hand on his arm. "You just watched him get transported to another galaxy," she says, gently. "He's gone, Clint. He can't hurt you any more."

Clint feels himself grinding his teeth. The fear is crawling up from his chest, into his throat and threatening to strangle him.

"You can't know that," he says. "There could be some kind of residue of his control. There's no way to know. I'm not safe to be around Laura and the kids."

It's what's been haunting the edges of his mind ever since he woke up, strapped to a bed on the helicarrier. He's been compromised once - it could happen again.

"So - what?" Nat asks. "You're just never going to go home again?"

"Can't risk it." Clint's still staring straight out the windshield.

Nat reaches up and gently pulls his chin round until he's looking at her.

"Yes, you can," she says firmly. "And you know why? Because I'll be there, and you know I'll kill you before I let you hurt them."

It's a weird thing when your best friend threatening to kill you is the most reassuring thing in the world. He knows she means it, too, and that she can do it. Her answer isn't the final solution – there's a long road ahead until he can really put this whole thing behind him – but it's a start, and it's something Clint can work with.

"Thanks, Nat," he says, and starts the car.

THE END


End file.
